


Focus

by fingalsanteater



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Consent Issues, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/pseuds/fingalsanteater
Summary: Weirdmageddon never happened and Dipper and Ford have the shack to themselves. Constantly alone together, Dipper's crush on his uncle grows.





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sequential](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequential/gifts).



It was weird at first, just him and Ford inhabiting the shack – no Mabel and Waddles, no Stan, no Soos or Wendy. He missed Mabel and Stan the most, but the pain of their absence had dulled in the intervening months. He missed his parents only a little, surprisingly.  
  
They all seemed so far away now, and not just by physical distance separating them. With all that happened over the summer, Dipper felt like a different person, like he’d finally found his place, here with Ford.  
  
The metamorphosis began the first time he opened the journal. In his more poetic moments, which were far and few between, Dipper imagined he'd become cocooned by the pages and Ford's words sunk right down into him, the ink becoming the blood in his veins. The weight of Ford's considerable knowledge and curiosity both filled Dipper up and made him ache for more, a dizzying contradiction that made him sweat from just being in Ford's presence. Even now, he was still cocooned in both the comfort and excitement of Ford's existence, still soaking up every ounce of knowledge and praise that Ford bestowed upon him; he was a work in progress that Ford was adding to, and Dipper welcomed it.  
  
Ford understood him the best, had maybe always understood him even though they’d only just met. He told Dipper that many times, a hand gripping Dipper's shoulder lightly or fitting in between his shoulder blades, index finger brushing the skin above Dipper's shirt collar.  
  
"We are two of a kind," he said one day, placing his hand softly on Dipper's cheek. Dipper had flushed, growing hotter and dizzier the longer Ford’s hand remained against his skin.  
  
Ford had always been touchy-feely. Stan and Mabel had been the same – casual, affectionate touches coming easily to them. But, neither of their touches ever made Dipper's heart pound so hard that he thought it might just spread wings and fly right out of his chest.  
  
His touches always lasted too long and not long enough, another contradiction of Dipper's feelings that he spun around and around in his mind. Just as his waking moments were filled with thoughts of Ford, so were his dreams. Dipper almost always woke sweating, with a vague sense of wanting than was hard to pin down. And, sometimes, he woke with a clear desire burning through him.

He always just laid there, breathing heavily and staring up at the attic crossbeam, guilt and arousal burning in his belly. He wanted partly to push that desire away, to think about something, someone else; but, mostly, he wanted to fall headlong back into his dreams where Ford’s hands on him made him feel better than they had any right to.

It became more and more difficult to keep his dreams confined to the back of mind in the waking hours. When Ford put a hand on Dipper, he leaned into it. They sat too close together, stood too close together, sharing space almost as if they were one person. Ford never moved away.

Dipper began to wonder how far he could go before Ford would stop him.

Their goal the last few months had been to find a way to destroy the rift or send it somewhere it could never be tampered with. They’d been working on sealing it up in its own pocket dimension –  a dimensional rift trapped in an inaccessible rift in the dimension – but it was slow going. They hadn’t been outside the shack in weeks because Ford was worried about Bill interfering. This was it, he’d told Dipper, the way they could be rid of Bill forever. He didn’t want anything to go wrong and the shack was the only truly safe place.

Dipper was on board with Ford’s genius idea completely, working long days and even longer nights side-by-side with him on the calculations and required technology, but being cooped up was beginning to make Dipper stir-crazy. When he didn’t feel bone achingly exhausted, he was weirdly giddy. Scenarios where Ford’s touches become less platonic, where his hands slid down Dipper’s body, his bare skin, lower and lower, ran through his mind concurrent with the formulas and calculations Ford had him working.

Dipper thought he could keep his feelings bottled up indefinitely. But, with them living in each other’s pockets, eventually the tension had to snap.

“Look at this,” Ford said, leaning close to Dipper and offering him a glimpse at a book with strange alien writing. They were sitting close together on the couch, but not quite touching.

Ford didn’t relinquish his book, so Dipper scooted closer, practically crawling into Ford’s lap to get a good look at it. He wrapped his arm around Dipper’s shoulders and read to him the relevant parts of the page, but Dipper could hardly hear for the roaring in his ears, frustrated by the low rumble of Ford’s voice and the feel of his warm body pressed against Dipper. It wouldn’t take much, just a turn and tilt of the head, to lean up and kiss him. Just the thought had Dipper practically squirming, his pulse quickening. 

“What do you think?” Ford asked.

“I, uh,” said Dipper, stammering a little, feeling caught out. “Can you read it again?” He’s ashamed he has to ask, but he can’t fake an answer.

Ford began to read again, but when Dipper’s hand brushed against his knee, his voice faltered. He shut the book and set it to the side. All his movements are deliberate and Dipper was wracked with nerves, worried he had done something wrong, worried he had given his thoughts away somehow.

Ford cupped Dipper’s chin in his large hand and gently guided Dipper to look him in the face.

“You are distracted,” he said, matter-of-factly. “By me.”

Dipper’s heart picked up its pace. Whatever was happening felt like it was happening too fast; Dipper had no time to think.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to shy away from honesty.

All he could say, however, was, “Yes.”

“I suspected as much,” Ford said. Dipper felt him lean forward. There was slight hesitation, Dipper felt Ford’s breath against his lips before he closed the scant distance and kissed him.

Dipper was so shocked that he couldn’t move; he didn’t even attempt to kiss back. Ford’s stubble rasped  against the side of Dipper’s mouth and his lips were soft against Dipper’s own.

Despite this being his fantasy, the fact that it was actually happening was giving him pause. His stomach churned with a sickening combination of desire and a sudden awareness of how strange it was. Dipper wasn’t stupid, he knew wanting his uncle in this way – and his uncle wanting him in this way – was, well… other people wouldn’t think it was right if they found out. But, Dipper and Ford were alone, and Dipper could make his own decisions. Ford trusted him to make his own decisions – treated him like someone capable, like an equal.

Just the thought of being able to make a choice like this, and the fact that Ford trusted him to, made him burn with desire.  

Ford pulled back from the kiss, looking completely unruffled. Meanwhile, Dipper felt as if he’d been melted and haphazardly remolded.

“We can’t afford distractions, Dipper,” Ford said. “Let’s get this out of your system so you can concentrate.”

That stung a little. He hated to disappoint Ford.

Dipper nodded, eager to show Ford that he could make the right decision.

“Good,” Ford said, smiling. “That’s very mature of you. Just trust me, okay?”

“I do,” Dipper said, meaning it, despite the nervous butterflies in in stomach.

“Come here.” Ford pulled Dipper onto his lap so his back was against Ford’s chest. He kissed the side of Dipper’s neck, right below his ear, and Dipper shivered at the sensation.

He had his hands on Dipper’s hips, but then slid them down to his thighs to spread them wider. Dipper’s cock was throbbing, pressing against the zipper of his shorts, and he thought he might come just from the idea of Ford’s hand on him there. But, when Ford cupped his cock through the material, he realized just the idea paled in comparison to the real thing. He arched up into Ford’s hand with a gasp.  

“You really needed this,” Ford told him, chuckling a little and kissing his jaw. Ford was just hard under Dipper, who squirmed a little against him; Ford didn’t react save for sharp intake of breath which he covered by placing his mouth on the junction of Dipper’s shoulder and neck and sucking, making Dipper squirm against him more.   

“Y-yes,” Dipper moaned as Ford began to undo his button and zipper. He cooperated, lifting his hips so Ford could get his shorts and underwear down his thighs. His cock strained upwards against his belly, eager for Ford’s hand again.

“Ford, please,” Dipper begged desperately, hands balled against Ford’s thighs as he arched up, seeking contact.

“Just relax, Dipper,” said Ford. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Dipper’s cock fit nicely in Ford’s palm, and his body fit perfectly into Ford’s arms. He leaned back against Ford’s chest and sighed as Ford began to stroke him. His cock leaked pre-come that Ford swiped at with his thumb. The contrast of his large, callused hand to Dipper’s memory of his own smaller, smoother one was setting Dipper’s body alight with pleasure. He didn’t think he’d last long at all, with Ford’s hand on him and Ford’s hard cock pressing against him, filling his mind with possibilities.

Dipper moaned, and Ford said hotly into his ear, “Are you going to come for me?”

It was too much. Dipper was burning up, the twin sensations of Ford’s hand moving steadily over him while his other gripped Dipper’s bare hip almost hard enough to bruise, sending him over the edge.

With a throaty groan, Dipper spilled over Ford’s hand.

“That’s it, Dipper,” Ford said, practically moaning Dipper’s name. “That’s good.” He ground his cock against Dipper and panted into his ear.

Dipper could hardly tell when he came from the sound he made, just a soft exhale that sounded like relief more than anything, not at all like Dipper’s drawn out groan. But, he went still under Dipper, mouth open against Dipper’s neck, teeth scraping his skin.

It took a minute for them to come down, to catch their breaths.

Ford asked, “Do you think you can focus now?”  

Dipper lied and said yes.

He was already thinking about the next time he became distracted.

* * *

Dipper didn't have to wait long to find out what would happen the next time. He was on tenterhooks for the three days, trying to save his furtive fantasies for bed and failing quite spectacularly. He took a lot of bathroom breaks.  
  
Ford was on edge too, with a sharp bite like Dipper had never seen. He was short with Dipper and kept his distance, at least for a day. Dipper had never known him to feel particularly guilty over anything save for his involvement with Bill, but if he were to feel guilt for anything, Dipper imaged that whatever happened between them was probably an appropriate thing to feel guilt over.  
  
There was a little seed of guilt in Dipper's heart as well, because, really, it was weird and taboo. He still felt just the same as he had when it happened: if Ford had thought it was a good idea and trusted Dipper to be mature about it, then Dipper would be.  
  
After keeping his distance for a day, Ford went right on back to touching Dipper with the same level of intimacy as before. So, of course, it didn't take Dipper long to lose enough of his focus that Ford felt the need to get Dipper back on track.  
  
It was an incredibly big mistake in a calculation that cinched it. Dipper was more embarrassed than he'd been in a while, with Ford looking over the rim of his glasses at Dipper and telling him his math was completely wrong.  
  
"Did you even try?" He asked, irritated, and Dipper wanted to crawl into a hole, maybe the bottomless pit, and never emerge.  
  
"I - I did," he stuttered. "I was just... tired, I guess." It was a lie. He'd been watching Ford fiddle with their device, the look of sheer concentration on his face - the furrow in between his brow, the way he'd poke his tongue out from between his teeth every once in while, the look of excitement that came over him when he worked something out - making Dipper's stomach flip-flop strangely and distracting him entirely.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ford. I'll work it again."  
  
Ford took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"No," he said, replacing his glasses and dropping his hand to Dipper's shoulder. "I'm sorry. You are unfocused again. At your age, it is understandable and completely normal. Do you -" here he paused, and Dipper had no idea how the sentence was going to end. He hoped Ford was going to ask if he wanted to come again by Ford’s own hand.  
  
Ford began again, "You need something more intense than last time. Go up to my room. I'll be along in a moment."  
  
No questions, just instructions in a firm tone of voice. Dipper was once again in awe at the situation and, at the same time aroused. He hurried up to Ford's room, in such a daze that he tripped over the hall table and banged his shin hard. The pain brought him back to himself and nervousness rose in him as he sat on Ford's bed. He hoped it was okay to sit there, not too presumptuous. He felt more awkward standing in the middle of the room like he didn't know what he doing. He wanted to look like he knew what he was doing with Ford.  
  
After a few nerve-wracking minutes, the door finally creaked open and Ford entered.  
  
He looked at Dipper sitting on his bed, feet barely touching the floor, and a look came over him that Dipper couldn't place. It was something like fear, but Dipper hoped he was wrong.  
  
Ford cleared his throat and said, voice rough like his throat was tight, "Take your clothes off."  
  
Dipper hesitated.  
  
"Please," Ford added softly, with a strange pleading quality, and that spurred Dipper on. Off came his vest, shirt (his hat tangled in it), shoes, and socks. His hands trembled on the zipper of his shorts even though he told himself he wasn't afraid. Ford moved his pile of clothes and laid them atop a steamer trunk at the end of his bed, then took a seat next to him. Dipper's hands still hovered over his zipper.  
  
"That's fine," Ford told him, tilting Dipper's chin up and kissing him again.  
  
It was more intense than last time, with Dipper half clothed and riding a wave of anticipation knowing, but not knowing, what was about to occur. Ford sunk the fingers of one hand in Dipper's hair and licked against the inside of Dipper's mouth.  
  
Dipper was overwhelmed, but eager to show Ford he wasn't just a lump who knew nothing of kissing or sex. He kissed back with fervor, nipping at Ford's lips and sucking at his tongue. This got a moan out of Ford and Dipper glowed with his success at getting that kind of reaction. When they pulled apart, both were breathing fast. A glance at Ford's lap told Dipper that he was just as hard as Dipper.  
  
Dipper wanted to see him and touch him, but he dare not ask.  
  
"Lie back, Dipper," Ford told him, and Dipper readily followed his instructions as Ford removed Dipper's pants and underwear, leaving him naked on Ford's bed.  
  
Ford was still fully clothed and Dipper felt a pang of disappointment at that.  
  
Feeling brave, emboldened by the way Ford ran worshipful fingers down Dipper's soft belly and encircled Dipper's straining cock with his hand, Dipper asked, "Can I see you?"  
  
It wasn't the precise request he envisioned when he opened his mouth, but with Ford's hand squeezing him, it was all he could manage.  
  
"You mean take off my clothing, as well?" Ford clarified.  
  
Dipper nodded. The gaze Ford leveled at him left him feeling more exposed than ever.  
  
After a moment, Ford asked, "Have you ever... been penetrated, Dipper?"  
  
Dipper had no idea what that had to do with Ford taking off his clothes, but he fully comprehended what Ford meant by the question and it made his stomach twist.  
  
"N-no," he answered plainly. But, he thought better of his basic answer and added, "But, i-if you want to, um. I want you to."  
  
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the disappointed look on Ford's face if Dipper had misunderstood.  
  
"I think the intensity of your orgasm from... that sort of stimulation will help with your lack of focus," he said, which was as good as saying "I want to," in Dipper's opinion.  
  
His hands left Dipper's body as he stood up. Dipper opened his eyes and watched as Ford stripped off his sweater. The first thing Dipper noticed was the thin scarring blooming out across his shoulders, arms and back in the shape of lightening. He had other scars encircling his neck and wrists, though Dipper was aware of these but had just never seen them fully. Tattoos colored his back, and arms, including a weirdly out of place one of a smiling star on his upper shoulder.  
  
Dipper suppressed the urge to say "Wow," but he was thinking it, thinking how, well, how incredible Ford looked with all his various marks and scars and how he wanted to lie in bed with Ford and map them all out with his fingers and maybe his mouth too.  
  
Ford kicked off his boots and socks, then off came his pants and underwear quickly, almost like he was eager to show himself to Dipper; and, though Dipper might be just imagining that, it still sent a surge of arousal through him.  
  
His cock was thick and fully hard and Dipper had the sudden realization that soon it would be inside him. He didn't panic because he trusted Ford wouldn't hurt him purposely, but it was frightening regardless.  
  
Ford rummaged around in his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of what Dipper assumed was lubricant.  
  
"Spread your legs a little wider," Ford said, settling in between them. "And, bend your knees up. Yes, good."  
  
Dipper watched as Ford coated his fingers with lube. Then, he watched Ford watching him as Ford pressed one finger against his hole and then in.  
  
He gasped, surprised at the sensation and the fact that it just felt weird. Not good or bad, just weird.  
  
Dipper said so, and Ford laughed and leaned down to kiss him, his finger slipping in deeper at the change in position.  
  
"It will get better," Ford assured him, and pressed in another finger.  
  
Dipper felt fuller, but still on the edge of weird-good rather than just good. His cock flagged, resting against his belly. Ford wrapped his other hand around it and the two sensations together, Ford's hand around him and his fingers in him, was really, really good.  
  
He moaned and Ford thrust his fingers deeper, the feeling shifting then from weird to just plain good. Great, even.  
  
Dipper got lost in how Ford was making him feel, and before he knew it, Ford was asking him if he was ready.  
  
Nodding mindlessly, Dipper wrapped his legs around Ford's hips as he pulled Dipper to him and pressed the thick, blunt head of his cock against him. Ford's cock slipped down, and then up, rubbing against Dipper's balls for a brief, glorious moment, before he was able to slip it inside Dipper with something that felt like a pop. It hurt and Ford must have recognized the way Dipper's face screwed up in pain, because he soothed him by sliding his hands gently over Dipper's sides and thighs, and didn't thrust in any further. He rubbed the swollen, wet head of Dipper's cock, working Dipper back into a state of pleasure.  
  
"I'm okay," Dipper said. "Please," he begged, pain forgotten and aching for more.  
  
Ford took a breath, his inhale shaky and sharp, and slowly slid further in. Dipper exhaled, just as shakily as Ford, feeling the air was being pushed out of him the deeper Ford's cock pressed in.  
  
Gripping Dipper's ass, he slid in all the way until their hips were flush. Dipper's head lolled on the pillow, hands gripping the sheets though the thought crossed his mind that he'd love to touch Ford. The thought didn't stay for long, because Ford loomed large over him and his cock filled him up and his hands were big on Dipper's hips and and… and, Ford’s hand moved to Dipper’s cock again and slid tightly over him, causing Dipper to cry out soundlessly. He didn’t come, not yet, but he was close, so close.

Ford pulled slowly out and thrust back in with a groan. His hand stilled on Dipper, and his mouth fell open with obvious pleasure. That sent pleasure coursing through Dipper, knowing he could do that Ford, that it was his body that was making Ford feel just as good. His cock twitched in Ford’s slack grip and he shifted his hips a little, trying to find some delicious friction.

But, had lost himself in Dipper’s body and Dipper was lost himself in the building molten pleasure in his belly. It rose and rose until just the heat of Ford’s hand, barely enclosing him, and the feel of Ford inside him, stretching him open, was enough to push Dipper over the edge. He came all over his own stomach and Ford’s hand for the second time that week.

He spasmed around Ford’s cock and Ford continued fucking him. Ford thrust shallowly into him a few more times, then in deeper with a grunt and stilled, his eyes squeezed shut as he too came. He spilled inside Dipper, hot and wet.

Afterward, they didn’t lay together like Dipper imagined couples did, basking in what Mabel’s romance books described as “after-glow,” but Ford did take him into the shower and they got cleaned up. He made Dipper come again around his fingers. Dipper felt sated, but he still wanted more. Ford gently scrubbed down the smooth planes of Dipper’s body with the soap and kissed the top of his head and Dipper knew Ford needed him too.  


End file.
